


Flashing Lights

by overwhelmingly_awesome



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Date Night, Fancy Museum Date Because They're Nerds, Fashionable Crowley, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Trophy Husband Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overwhelmingly_awesome/pseuds/overwhelmingly_awesome
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley attend a gala at the local museum, hoping to woo various socialites into selling their expensive books. Aziraphale finds himself distracted by his well dressed demon, and rethinks the status of their relationship.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 220
Collections: Promptposal, Top Aziraphale Recs





	1. The Museum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horseboneologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/horseboneologist/gifts), [LeilaKalomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaKalomi/gifts).



> This is a 2 in 1 story for the Promptposal event that I was able to take part in this month! 
> 
> The first chapter was written for the Junior  
> Prom (completely sfw), for leilakalomi, with the prompt: "Something sweet with Crowley being very flashy." 
> 
> The second chapter was written for the Senior Prom (nsfw), for horseboneologist, with the prompt: "Some kind of bondage/dominance, with top Aziraphale." 
> 
> I ended up writing much more than I'd anticipated, but I hope you both enjoy! Either of the chapters can be read as stand alone fics, but the second chapter is fairly pwp, with a few references to the first chapter, so I'd recommend reading that first.

Aziraphale fiddled with his cufflinks as he sat down against the near-decorative couch behind him. The lobby in Crowley's building had been designed to be visually appealing, but it hadn't been designed for any sort of comfort, which had become painfully obvious as the angel sat back against a couch so stiff that it could have been mistaken for rock. 

He'd been waiting nearly fifteen minutes for the demon to arrive, so that they could both make their way to the gala that would be starting in only a few minutes. Aziraphale knew that with Crowley behind the wheel, they could arrive with time to spare, but the demon had quite literally invented the term "fashionably late", effectively ruining any chance of them reaching the event on time. Crowley would most likely ensure that the pair of them would be walking through the doors of the museum just late enough not to appear rude, but to still appear suave and interesting, at least, according to Crowley himself. 

Aziraphale supposed that it didn't matter whether or not they were a little late; the gala would go on for hours as it was. The only thing he regretted was that he wasn't spending his time with the demon, who'd talked quite a big game about how he'd be on Aziraphale's arm the entire night, bothering each of the curators until they were forced to admit that their knowledge on certain artifacts was only speculation, and that  _ Mr. Crowley's  _ theories were just as plausible. Of course, the demon's theories would always circle around to aliens, or snake-people, or secret societies, and the curators were never nearly as amused as Crowley, but they'd be too tired to fight back against Aziraphale's lowball offers on their books, so the human-shaped-entities always seemed to come out on top. 

Aziraphale had brought out the big guns today, both to impress the curators and philanthropists that would hopefully part with some of their first editions, and to appease his companion, who'd been painfully curious to see the angel in an outfit from at least the 20th century. 

The angel had purchased a more modern suit, still in his normal cream and beige palette, but with a slightly slimmer cut and less embellishments than his normal attire. Without the number of layers he'd grown accustomed to, he felt slightly exposed, but the tailor had been eager to assure him that he looked perfectly dashing. Aziraphale only hoped that Crowley would feel the same way. He wanted to hear what the demon would think, but that could only happen if the demon  _ actually arrived on the ground floor this century.  _

As if on cue, the elevator doors dinged open behind him. Aziraphale turned to greet his companion, before finding himself rather at a loss for words.

"Oh good  _ lord,  _ Crowley," he said with a chuckle, as he took in the sight before him. 

The demon leaned against the elevator door, the long line of him slanted in a suave manner that Aziraphale could only imagine took him the entirety of the elevator ride to pose correctly. 

His pose, however, wasn't what made Aziraphale's eyes rake up and down the demon's lanky form. 

As always, he was outfitted in a coal-black ensemble, with well-tailored slacks and a black suit jacket draped over his shoulders. Underneath his jacket, he wore an expensive looking silk shirt, unbuttoned to show the pale expanse of the demon's throat and collarbones. Each of the outfit's many components would be considered fashionably tame on their own, but together, mixed with fiery red hair and golden rimmed sunglasses, the demon looked incredibly striking. 

Crowley waggled his eyebrows in a fashion that effectively ruined his seductive exterior, searching for a comment from the angel as he sauntered in his direction. 

"Like what you see, angel?" He breathed, coming down for a quick peck on the lips. 

As Aziraphale stood up to join him, he noted that the demon stood a few inches taller than his normal height. The angel glanced down to see the offending shoes, heeled effectively to lengthen the already dangerously long legs of his companion. 

As he pulled his gaze back up to Crowley's eyes, he caught a glimpse of his golden rimmed sunglasses, which under further inspection, were composed of multiple tiny golden serpents that faded into the arms. 

"A little on the nose, don't you think?" he asked, straightening his own suit. 

Crowley thought for a moment, before a grin split out across his face. "They're glasses, angel, that's where they're  _ supposed _ to be." 

Perhaps bringing Crowley was a mistake. 

Crowley chuckled at his own joke before draping his arms over the angel's shoulders, and gazing into warm blue eyes. 

"What about the rest of the outfit, hmm? Are you a  _ fan? _ " He cooed, earning him a teasingly raised eyebrow. Up close, Aziraphale could see a dark sweep of perfectly applied eyeshadow that shimmered alongside the rest of his outfit. They both knew that much of the makeup would be hidden beneath his dark glasses, but Crowley was quite thorough with every aspect of a perfect outfit, leaving no element of his look unfinished.

As well, Aziraphale always enjoyed the demon's skill with a makeup brush, as he'd told him time and time again.

As Crowley openly fished for compliments, Aziraphale toyed between criticizing him, or perhaps saying something bland, like  _ it's fine, dear, _ but he knew it would accompany a pouting demon for the rest of the event. Plus, Aziraphale could admit that it would be wholly untrue. 

"You look lovely, as  _ always,  _ dearest," he praised, earning another, slightly deeper kiss. "The outfit is quite…" he drifted off, just long enough to allow the demon to pout just a little, " _ dramatic _ . You'll certainly draw eyes." 

Crowley pulled away with a bounce, that was truly quite impressive considering the height of his footwear. From a distance, Aziraphale could admire the slight shimmer of the shirt, in weaving patterns that looked almost like a coiling patch of snakes across a lean chest. 

The demon grinned. "I thought that if you were posing as some rich book enthusiast slash philanthropist, I could play the part of your dashing, expensive, trophy husband," he said, his voice low and dramatic, as he gestured vaguely with stretched out arms. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, but found himself a second too slow. 

"I know, it's an outdated concept, but it's  _ fun _ ," Crowley smiled mischievously. "Besides, I make great eye candy.

He certainly did, not that Aziraphale would ever put it that way. He might have been a tad…  _ flashy _ , but it suited him. Aziraphale hadn't seen him this pleased since the angel had given him permission to revive his old maintenance jacket, which he'd used to cause some minor mayhem amongst the metro. 

Crowley swung his keys around one long finger (which Aziraphale now noticed was decorated with metallic silver nail polish), and turned towards the front door. 

"We should probably get going, angel," he said, his voice light and teasing, "unless you want to be late."

Aziraphale huffed, but followed the demon as he swayed out into the front of the building where the Bentley was waiting. 

"And by the way," Crowley paused, leaning over the roof of the car to face Aziraphale, "you don't look so bad yourself." He finished with a wink and an indulgent look down Aziraphale's front, which the angel decided validated his more exciting fashion choices.

They both slid into the car, and pulled the doors shut behind them. 

"You won't be the only one showing off a terribly handsome date tonight," Crowley smirked. 

+×+×+×+

When they arrived at the event, it was every bit as posh as they'd expected. The museum had gone all out, decorating the high ceilings with sparkling chandeliers, and filling tables with unnecessarily fancy champagne towers, babysat by well dressed servers. The room filled with the scent of expensive cologne and sound of the band in the corner playing out an old fashioned jazz standard. 

The attendees were just as well put together, with long evening gowns and dark suits, complete with jewelry and watches that were more expensive than most of the museum's exhibits.

Aziraphale momentarily begrudged the wealthy atmosphere, knowing that each of the potential book peddlers would make it difficult to purchase anything at a reasonable price, but brushed it off. Money wasn't really an object to either of the two supernatural beings, which always tended to make things slightly less complicated. That didn't mean that the angel wouldn't still fight to get a good deal, but it meant that he would always end up with the texts of his choosing, one way or another. 

Crowley settled in at his arm smoothly, thoroughly enjoying the odd lingering glance or double take at his appearance. 

The demon often stood out in a crowd wherever he went, with his striking red hair (that now fell just below his shoulders, but had been pulled back elegantly in a knot behind his head) and his taller physique, but tonight he seemed to radiate his signature tempting beauty, and the rest of the guests took note. 

Occasionally, the demon would receive the odd abrasive look or attitude regarding his eccentricity, but if someone had any objections that they wished to voice out loud, both of the human-shaped-beings would ensure that their thousand dollar suits needed dry cleaning from an unfortunate slip of champagne. 

Crowley squeezed on Aziraphale's arm, and smiled. "Come on angel, let's get something to drink." 

He pulled them gently in the direction of the open bar. It looked like something out of an old movie, with a wall of expensive drinks, dramatic low lighting, and a smartly dressed bartender who was more than capable of making whatever ego-boosting cocktails the guests could dream up. It suited the rest of the venue, looking every bit as fancy as the coordinators must have hoped.

Aziraphale sat himself down on one of the chairs in front of the dark wooden bar counter, with Crowley at his side. They ordered their drinks quickly, and sat back to face the rest of the room. 

"So," Crowley started, holding his drink just before his lips, "anyone in here you're particularly fond of  _ schmoozing _ ?" 

Aziraphale looked out across the sea of well-dressed socialites. There were more than enough extravagant collectors, most of which the angel knew by name, if not in person. There were a few older men, who collected what they referred to as "the classics", though they never tended to span much further back than the 19th century. There were plenty of younger curators, eager to buy whatever they could afford, or whatever their wealthy parents permitted them to buy, typically landing in slightly older territories, with poorly treated rare novels. 

Aziraphale recognized a few of them from previous arrangements, some more successful than others. 

One of the men stood out in his mind, with a bland grey suit, and hair that was startlingly similar in colour. Aziraphale had run into him a few times, where the man - a Mr. Johnson, whose name was about as bland as the man himself - had repeatedly refused to part with a collection of well-kept Shakespeare plays, bound in a rather extraordinary manner. 

Aziraphale had been interested for years, and had offered him much more than what they were worth, but continued to be rebuked on his proposals. Perhaps tonight would finally bring about some success. 

He pointed each of the curators out to Crowley, who followed along intently. 

Crowley hummed for a moment, taking it all in. He nodded to Johnson. "Why don't you go talk to him? I'll find some way to amuse myself." 

He looked over to a well lit corner by the entrance of the dinosaur exhibit, which contained a group of young women, all dressed to the nines in rather extraordinary evening dresses. 

Crowley had a pinpoint accuracy about him, allowing him to determine the most vulnerable group of people to tempt, in only a few moments' time. Since the Apocalypse it had been used only for slight mischief rather than actual temptations, but it had been just as entertaining for the demon. 

Aziraphale smiled. "Are you sure? You could come chat about old manuscripts with me if you'd prefer."

Crowley gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure. Go swindle some old rich book enthusiasts." 

Before Aziraphale could protest that he wasn't  _ swindling  _ them, just encouraging them to part with their books for less than they're worth, the demon had already begun to sway himself in the direction of the young ladies. He hoped he wouldn't convince them of anything too unsavory, beyond a gentle rearrangement of joint bank accounts. 

The angel made his way over to Mr. Johnson, and started up his introduction. 

+×+×+×+

The night went by rather quickly, as Aziraphale bounced between various book enthusiasts and philanthropists, discussing everything from manuscripts to artifacts. The sellers hadn't all been eager to part with their expensive wares, but Aziraphale was well-practiced in the art of convincing each of them of his ability to respect the books in question. Perhaps he had to dodge a few questions regarding the apparent fire and destruction of his shop, convincing each of his companions that the bookshop was still standing, wasn't it? He hadn't lost any books. How could it possibly have burned down?

Even Mr. Johnson agreed to part with a few of his collectable tomes, after a hefty sum had been proposed alongside three glasses of wine. 

One of the women he'd encountered - a lovely woman named Catherine, who'd eagerly accepted his offer to purchase one of her Jane Austen first editions - had caught his eyes drifting towards the fashionable demon, who'd captured the attention of many of the partygoers. 

"Is that your husband?" she'd asked politely, after Aziraphale had apologized for letting his attention drift from their conversation. 

He felt his heart catch at the notion, and thought for a moment. They'd both been rather adverse to titles in the beginning, seeing how 'boyfriend' seemed rather anticlimactic after six thousand years, and finding 'partner' a rather vague term. They'd never been officially joined in marriage, but as Aziraphale thought about it, they were about as close as two beings could be, apart from a ceremony. 

"Yes, I suppose he is," he responded, a tad more breathless than he'd anticipated. Crowley himself had said he was playing the part of an expensive trophy husband, so didn't that imply that he too thought of them as, to some degree, married? He looked over once more to the demon. 

Crowley had always been a rather good storyteller, with enough charm and charisma to choke out even the most well-spoken actors or politicians, and as he'd downed what Aziraphale assumed to be his second or third glass of champagne, he'd been loosened up to gesture dramatically as he told his mostly-true tales of his experiences. 

He looked so lovely. Not just the outfit, though Aziraphale was hardly immune to the charms that came alongside sinfully tight trousers and shimmery fabric that suited the demon criminally well, but the way that he smiled as he used that raggedy voice of his to lure in his circle of admirers, and his pleasant laugh that rang out amongst the venue.

Aziraphale would never stoop so low as to refer to him as a trophy husband - he was so much more than that - but the thought of introducing the demon not as his companion or partner, but as his dashing husband, made the angel's useless heart beat to a rhythm he had never felt before. 

_ Husband.  _

Aziraphale had never given such weight to the useless human titles, but as he watched the demon close his eyes and laugh, he couldn't get it out of his head. 

After a few moments, Crowley turned to meet the angel's gaze, and bestowed a flirty wink concealed behind his sunglasses _.  _

He thanked Catherine once more for her generosity, and wandered over to the fashionable settee that currently held the liquid form of his companion. The demon's arms were draped over the backrest, his ankle crossed over his knee, as he told the story of a particularly interesting visit to Rome he'd had with his lovely bookseller. 

As Crowley caught sight of Aziraphale, he grinned, and pulled himself up off to greet him. 

"Ah! There he is," he said, with a long swing of his arm, the champagne glass at the end of it knowing better than to spill across his jacket. "See ladies? I told you I'd brought the most handsome man here. I'm afraid you'll all have to pay up." 

Aziraphale smiled at the comment, and wrapped his arm around the demon's thin waist, pulling him in for a kiss. His arms lingered around Crowley's thin hips, and he found himself quite adverse to setting him free from the circle of his arms. 

Crowley draped himself over the angel's shoulders, and fiddled softly with the white collar that peeked out from under his jacket. "Having fun, angel?" he asked, his words viscous and fluid. A few of his audience members giggled at the assumed pet name, and turned back away to continue whatever conversations they'd had before Aziraphale's arrival. 

Aziraphale tucked a stray flyaway behind Crowley's ear, and smiled. 

"How would you like to explore a little more of the venue with me, my dear?" He asked quietly. 

Crowley smiled, and turned towards his companions, bidding them adieu. 

After a refill of their champagne glasses, they turned out of the grand foyer, and began to make their way through the exhibits.

Crowley seemed to relax slightly as they made their way down the empty corridors, admiring the exhibits, and settling into the soft silence of the building. He enjoyed the attention of those around him, but even the most energetic of show offs could grow tired of their escapades.

Aziraphale found himself much too distracted by his companion to take in the artifacts around him. 

Only a few of the museum's lights flickered on overhead, giving the entire place a sense of stillness, alongside sweeping shadows across each of the grand hallways. Crowley didn't seem to notice, pleasantly strolling down the hallways with a light hand clasped onto Aziraphale's own. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?" he asked, as Crowley turned to examine an improperly categorized article of ancient clothing. 

"Oh absolutely." The demon grinned. "I didn't realize how much I missed going out to fancy events like this." He seemed to sway a little as he walked, a product of his footwear, the alcohol, and a grievous affliction of the hips that seemed to cause Crowley to saunter dramatically wherever he went. Aziraphale would never complain. "Remember that grand party we went to in the twenties, angel?"

They'd attended a few parties in the twenties, each of them more glamorous and hedonistic than the last, but Aziraphale got the picture. "This isn't anything like that," he chuckled, "too classy. Not enough drugs or dancing." 

Crowley scoffed, and Aziraphale wondered if he'd bring up the 'powdered sugar' that had ended up on the collar of one of the party's hosts. "I didn't mean it's  _ exactly  _ like those parties, but…" he paused to find the right words, "it's  _ fun. Exciting.  _ We should crash these sorts of things more often."

They turned into a room that was filled to the brim with paintings and statues, illuminated by a collection of grand windows and balconies. Each of the frames were filled with ancient artwork, kept company by pearly white marble statues in dynamic poses. Aziraphale's gaze remained focused on the demon.

"If it means I can see you this pleased more often, I'd like nothing more."

Crowley smirked teasingly, but Aziraphale could catch a faint blush across sharp cheekbones. The demon gently tugged Aziraphale through a pair of glass doors, guiding them out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air. It appeared that this private museum seemed exceptionally well-suited to such an event, complete with classic outcroppings that seemed rather perfect for late night stargazing. 

Aziraphale watched the demon make his way out into the cool night air, and lean against the balcony's railing. His legs seemed to continue on infinitely as he stretched out like a cat, lifting his arms above his head.

Aziraphale couldn't help but follow the demon's movements with calm blue eyes, resulting in a smug expression across the demon's face. 

"Perhaps you'd just be willing to accompany me to more events like this because you'd get to see me all dressed up again," Crowley said, his voice teasingly low and seductive. 

Aziraphale laughed. "I bought half a dozen books tonight. I'd be more than willing to attend more of these if I had the same results." 

Crowley stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. Aziraphale chuckled, and gave him a soft kiss to sweep away the doubtful expression. 

"But you do make an excellent point. You  _ are  _ rather lovely this evening, dearest, but you're  _ always  _ beautiful. I don't need to take you to a party to have you steal my breath away." 

Crowley wrinkled his nose, and ran his hands down the front of Aziraphale's suit. "Come on, angel, admit it. Seeing your lover all dressed to the nines. It's gotta be doing something for you."

Aziraphale sighed, and met Crowley's gentle golden eyes. He could tease as much as he liked, but the demon would always be stunning. With or without the suit, or the charcoal eyeshadow, or his hair pulled back so expertly. 

Aziraphale had fallen in love with the gaudy silk pajamas he'd worn the first night they'd shared a bed, and that he'd worn the morning after, rumpled slightly, with his hair sticking up in all directions. 

Aziraphale had fallen in love with the bright orange maintenance jacket that Crowley had worn when he'd gone off to cause mischief. 

Aziraphale had fallen in love with the soft black jumper that Crowley had worn in December, when he'd resigned to choosing warmth over fashion.

Aziraphale had fallen in love with more than just the clothing Crowley had worn, or the style of his hair, or the way he'd done his makeup. Aziraphale had fallen in love with the charismatic, deceptively optimistic, wonderful being, who could come in any form, and Aziraphale would still love him more than anything else in the world. 

"My husband." 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. His golden eyes seemed to search for some sort of explanation in the angel's own expression, not afraid, but thrown off guard. "What?" 

Aziraphale brought the demon's thin hand to his lips, and kissed the peaks of his knuckles gently. 

"One of the ladies back there asked if you were my husband," he said softly, pulling in closer against the demon, leaning them both against the balcony railing. Crowley brought his other arm around Aziraphale's waist, pulling him against him more firmly.

"Oh," Crowley breathed. "What did you say?" 

Aziraphale continued his gentle assault with his lips pressing a soft kiss against the inside of the demon's captive wrist. "I said yes." 

He felt Crowley's jumping pulse against the brush of his lips. 

"Oh." 

Aziraphale looked up to meet his eyes once more, and raised his eyebrows in concern. "Should I not have?" 

Crowley let out a shaky laugh, and smiled. "Well, we're not exactly married, are we?"

Aziraphale pulled away slightly, opting to lean next to the demon against the railing. The moonlight seemed to reflect against his companion's red hair in gentle waves, and brushed over his skin beautifully. Aziraphale wondered if any of the paintings in the gallery could compare to such an elegant sight. 

"I've loved you for so long, it feels like it must fall under some sort of common law arrangement," he said, keeping his tone as casual as he could. 

"I suppose," the demon finally exhaled. His face seemed deceptively neutral, hiding the emotions that Aziraphale assumed ran through Crowley's mind. Had he gone too quickly? Was the demon against the prospect of marriage? They'd never talked about it before. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and turned to face the demon completely. "Would you want to be?" 

Crowley greeted his gaze with wide eyes. Aziraphale hadn't realized that he'd removed his glasses, but under the starlight Aziraphale found himself rendered nearly speechless at the warmth of his gaze. "Your husband?" 

Aziraphale swallowed. "Yes."

Crowley's mouth opened wordlessly, with a gentle smile teasing at the corners of his lips. It felt like a small eternity before he managed to speak, breaking the silent air with a familiar warm tone. "Are you asking me to marry you, angel?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "Depends on your answer." 

Crowley let out a startled sort of laugh. "That's cheating. Either you're asking me to marry you, or you're not."

Aziraphale let out another deep breath, and let both of his hands rest against the cool stone of the balcony railing. The air had been cool under the layers of their suits, with a gentle breeze that seemed to add to such a strange silence of the night. 

"Then I must be asking you to marry me." 

Crowley quickly turned to corner the angel against the railing, and brought two lean hands up to cup Aziraphale's jaw. Smooth and steady, he closed the distance between them, and pulled him into a soft kiss. 

Aziraphale felt the warmth of the demon's palms, soft against his skin as Crowley peppered the angel in gentle kisses. He could smell his favorite cologne as Crowley buried himself in the angel's neck, holding him as close as possible. 

"Is that a yes?" Aziraphale managed to ask, letting his own hands drift up the back of the demon's suit. 

"Ask me properly," Crowley said with a smile, pulling away to face him. His warm breath intermingled with the angel's in great clouds of steam that interrupted the cold air. 

Aziraphale pressed a hand to the curve of Crowley's jaw, and sighed. He could linger in this very moment until the end of time, feeling his body against his, and staring into hopeful pools of amber. "Crowley, my love," he breathed, "will you marry me?"

Crowley grinned. 

" _ Yes. _ " 

He kissed the rosy apples of Aziraphale's cheeks, the line of his jaw, and finally, brought his lips to the warm smile of Aziraphale's mouth. 

After a long moment, the demon pulled away, and straightened Aziraphale's suit and bowtie. 

"So," he hummed, "you like the outfit that much, huh?" 

Aziraphale laughed. "Oh, hush," he admonished, with his heart completely out of it. 


	2. The Bookshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, you may be asking: what if that story continued, but with a dramatically different and horny tone? This would be the result of that!
> 
> This is the longest straight up smut I've ever written, so I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also, this is a few hours later, after the gala has wrapped up, and they've made their way home.

Aziraphale pushed Crowley gently through the door of the bookshop, before landing them both against the wall. 

Without any of the lights on, the entrance was illuminated only by the streetlights peering in through the doorway, landing in grand columns across the demon's pale throat and the loose strands of copper hair that fell out to frame his face. 

"Well that was fun," Crowley said breathlessly. 

Aziraphale let his lips wander along the tantalizing line of the demon's throat. Every inch of the demon's exposed skin had been taunting him from the moment he'd sauntered out of the elevator, and the angel had been desperate to mark his blemish-free skin with a necklace of gentle bites and bruising kisses. Each of his movements were slow and calculated, pressing himself against the demon in tune with each of Crowley's gentle hums of pleasure. 

Aziraphale felt the warm palms of the demon's hands trace up his back, burying his fingers into the downy-soft curls at the nape of his neck to guide him back up towards his lips.

"Which part?" Aziraphale asked, his lips still alight with the sensation of sharp teeth tugging on them only moments before, "the open bar, or the fact that no one in the gala could keep their eyes off of you?" 

Crowley smiled. "Both," he said breathlessly, "but the ending was pretty spectacular too." 

The night had gotten away from both of them, filled to the brim with wealthy, alcohol plied socialites, who'd gathered amongst the museum to discuss their new needless acquisitions. 

Crowley had drawn the angel's eyes throughout the whole event, his elegant form dressed to the nines in a manner that could (and had, on many occasions) tempt even the most devout worshipper to consider straying from the path of righteousness. The angel had followed the dark cut of Crowley's suit for hours, tracing the hemline of the slightly unbuttoned shimmery shirt with his eyes, drinking in the few inches of exposed skin. 

Crowley had drawn the attention of the room with every movement, whether he paced around the room with his dramatically long legs (elongated by his dark sharp heeled shoes), or spread his arms atop an expensive couch, telling over-embellished tales to the audience that he seemed to gather wherever he went.

Now, in the quiet privacy of the bookshop, Aziraphale could let his hands wander lower across the demon's front, pulling his silk shirt out of criminally tight trousers, as he'd imagined doing for nearly three hours. 

He hummed against the demon's neck, once more running his teeth ever-so-lightly over the thin cord of him. He was so _fragile,_ sometimes, under Aziraphale's touch, every aspect of him so thin and accessible under the angel's hands and mouth. The angel knew exactly how strong a demon could be when provoked, but also knew exactly how pliable his lover would become under the slightest brush of angelic lips, or the soft gripping of strong hands against wiry hips. 

"I'm glad. You deserve the attention, my dear," Aziraphale breathed against the corner of Crowley's mouth, "though I suppose I should have left you in the museum. That's where works of art like you belong." 

Crowley let out a low groan, that Aziraphale could feel under his palm where it met the dip of the demon's neck. 

Crowley always sounded so lovely, whether it was the result of a delicate kiss, or a thorough fucking. Each and every sound that left his pretty lips sounded like a perfect melody, that filled Aziraphale's mind with a desperate want. Luckily, Crowley was more than eager to please; ready and willing for anything the angel could ever desire. 

" _Flatterer,_ " the demon chuckled, before once again drawing the angel's lips against his. Aziraphale could write sonnets upon sonnets about Crowley's tongue, or the gentle pressure of his lips. 

Aziraphale could fill novels with prose centered around the way that the demon's body lined up against his like an intricate puzzle piece, each of his planes and angles fitting in against the sloping curves of Aziraphale's own front. While Crowley explored the intricacies of Aziraphale's mouth, the angel used a sturdy hand to hitch up the demon's leg, pulling them flush against each other. 

The evidence of the demon's arousal pressed distractingly up against Aziraphale's thigh, as the angel gave an experimental roll of his hips. He coaxed gasp after gasp from Crowley's parted mouth, tightening his grip on the lean leg coiled around his own. 

"Isn't that exactly what you want, my dear?" He breathed, pressing scalding kisses along the line of his cheek, to the delicate skin just below his earlobe.

Crowley nearly purred under his touch. He opened his mouth to ask what the angel meant, before rolling golden eyes back into his head with a low moan. He could only eke out a gentle questioning hum. 

" _Flattery,_ dearest _._ Why else would you dress up as you do, if not to attract the fine words of praise you love so much?" 

Perhaps under different circumstances, Crowley would have thought up a clever response, burying his cravings under a snarky comment on the angel's own tendencies for worship. However, as Aziraphale's hand crept up the front of his shirt, raking well-manicured nails over the surprisingly sensitive skin of the demon's sides, he could only shiver in pleasure and accept his lover's onslaught of attention. 

"Of course, you don't have to dress in your finest clothes for me to tell you how perfect you are. How _stunning_ you are," Aziraphale breathed against the shell of Crowley's ear, his hips and hand keeping him securely pressed to the wall. "How every time I see you, I think of either locking you up in our bedroom, to keep anyone else from looking at you the way I do, or showing you off, so that everyone can see just how incredible you are." 

" _Aziraphale,"_ Crowley breathed, incapable of anything else. He hadn't been the most adept at speaking at the best of times, but under Aziraphale's gentle attentions, he found himself unable to do much more than breathe out a steady stream of the angel's name, _yes,_ and the ever popular _please,_ or _fuck._

"But, it's _ever_ so lovely to see you like this, my dear. I could watch you preen for hours on end," Aziraphale continued, spurred on by the compelling noises spilling from his companion's mouth.

"You were so lovely tonight, on my arm. I could hardly keep my hands off of you." Aziraphale's voice dropped impossibly lower, raspy in pleasure as he continued the steady pressure of his hips against his eager serpentine counterpart's. If Crowley felt even half as good as Aziraphale did with each careful grind, it was no wonder that the demon had been reduced to monosyllables. 

"In fact, I would have taken you in the bathroom, or out on that balcony, if not for the fact that everyone else would have had the honor of hearing how you sound while I fuck you hard enough to see those stars you love so much." He pulled away slightly, only to admire Crowley's kiss-bitten lips. "The honor is mine, and mine alone."

With a particularly well placed rut of Aziraphale's hips, Crowley let out a stuttering groan, and pulled desperately at the angel's suit, to bring him in closer. This however, resulted in the quick grasping of his wrists, and the rough placement of his hands above his copper red hair. 

" _Aziraphale, ah- please,_ " he whined in response. Perhaps the first few times they'd explored each other's bodies, Aziraphale would have taken the sound as a cue to be gentle, to release his hands, and to pull away the offending article of clothing. However, after nearly a year, Aziraphale recognized it as something quite different. 

"Oh?" he breathed, a grin breaking out across his face as he released the demon's wrists. "Is that what you'd like tonight? Well, after such a lovely evening, I can't possibly refuse." 

With a snap of his fingers, they found themselves transported to the flat above the bookshop, atop an overly stuffed mattress. Crowley still lay pressed against the angel's front, nearly atop his lap where they sat on the edge of the bed. 

Carefully, and _painfully_ slowly, Aziraphale pulled away from the demon to tug at the bowtie that lay nestled against his neck. It had been loosened by Crowley's nimble fingers over the course of the night, allowing Aziraphale to pull it off in one fell swoop. He held in front of him like a prize, before raising an eyebrow to confirm his suspicions. 

Crowley nodded breathlessly and held his hands out in front of his chest as though he were to pray to the angel before him. Aziraphale smiled, and began to wrap the tie around thin wrists. The material knew better than to be anything other than the perfect length, as it looped around tight enough to restrict his movements, but not in a manner that was overly uncomfortable. 

They'd both discovered Crowley's affinity for this sort of thing rather early on in their relationship. During one rather intense bout of lovemaking, Aziraphale had gotten slightly carried away, pinning the demon's hands to the mattress with his own to keep him from moving. As a result, Crowley had come untouched with a spectacular cry of the angel's name, and they'd added the activity to the ever expanding list of things the pair of them enjoyed. 

In the present, Aziraphale finished up a rather secure knot where the demon's wrists met, while running an eager tongue along the line of Crowley's jaw. 

_"Aziraphale,_ " the demon breathed, as he settled his hands down at his knees. Balanced precariously atop Aziraphale's thighs, the angel's grip at his hips seemed to be the only thing holding him up. 

"You say my name so well, dearest," he praised, running his hands over the still clothed thighs that bracketed his own, "but I wonder if your mouth could be put to use in other ways?" 

Crowley looked up at him with wide eyes, before gracelessly collapsing on the ground. Adjusting himself so that he was settled comfortably on his knees, his bound wrists between them, he obediently looked up at the angel with a lazy smile. 

" _Mm,_ " the angel hummed in satisfaction, "and just when I thought you couldn't be more lovely." 

Crowley let his head fall to the soft cushion of Aziraphale's thigh, as he hungrily watched the angel unzip his trousers, to free himself into the open air of the bedroom. Aziraphale held his arousal in his palm for a moment, gripping it once in his fist, before presenting it to the demon at his feet. 

Lifting his bound hands to the angel's cock, Crowley let his criminally smooth fingers trace along the sensitive skin, setting Aziraphale's nerves alight. His mouth began it's steady descent with feather-light brushes of his lips against the underside of the angel's arousal, before bringing himself up to the head with an open-mouthed kiss. Slowly, and with delirious precision, the demon took the head of Aziraphale's cock into the warmth of his mouth, letting his eyelashes flutter shut against sharp cheekbones. 

The dark sweep of shimmering eyeshadow seemed to catch on whatever dim lighting filled the room with the flickering of his eyelids, as he continued to slowly take more and more of Aziraphale's thick cock against the wet roll of his talented tongue, alongside the gentle pressure of his lips. 

Aziraphale found himself entranced not only by the constant stream of pleasure, but by the startling appearance of the demon on his knees, bound, yet still fully clothed in his dark suit and shirt still neatly assembled on his lean form. Other than a few tousled strands of copper-red hair, Crowley looked nearly identical to the way he'd appeared at the party. 

Aziraphale found himself fantasizing about the way Crowley could have fallen to his knees behind some curtain or door, sucking him off with a quick and filthy expertise, before they both returned to the splendor of the party. They would appear unaffected beyond the haze of pleasure that accompanied the illicit act, and a slight hoarseness to the sound of his companion's lovely voice. 

As Crowley pressed the tip of his tongue to the sweet-spot just under the head of Aziraphale's cock, the angel let out an obscene moan. His eyes once again fell on brilliant golden irises, spread out to the corners of the demon's own shimmery eyes. 

"Those eyes of yours, dear," Aziraphale gasped, "you're so _lovely_ like this." 

Aziraphale could feel the way Crowley preened under the compliment, settling his hands between his knees as he took the angel deeper into his mouth, and hollowing his cheeks. Aziraphale felt himself drifting off into the numbing pleasure of his tongue and the suction of his lips wrapped so elegantly around the girth of his arousal, and thrust ever so slightly into his lover's mouth. 

With a desperate groan, Crowley encouraged the angel by bringing him nearly into the brilliant heat of his throat.

Aziraphale laughed breathlessly. He buried his fingers into the long waves of Crowley's hair, freeing it from the confines of the golden pin that had held it into a knot, and watching as it curled around the careful grip of his knuckles. 

Aziraphale had been dreaming of how Crowley's hair would tumble to greet the exposed skin of his neck as he tugged on it in the way he knew the demon loved. He'd spent much of the event thinking about the gentle waves of red beneath his fingers, guiding Crowley's mouth down against his cock, fully utilizing the serpent's non-existent gag reflex. 

As if he could read the angel's thoughts, Crowley pulled off with a pop, and gasped up at Aziraphale, his lips still damp with spit and the slight traces of the angel's precome. 

" _Please,_ angel," he rasped, wide eyes blinking up at him like a spotlight of beauty. 

Aziraphale certainly couldn't refuse. Carefully, he began to thrust shallowly into the heat of the demon's mouth. He felt the gentle change in pressure as Crowley relaxed his jaw and let his tongue sit against the bottom of his mouth, meeting each motion with a roll of his tongue, and an eager bob of his head down further onto the angel's cock. Each roll of the angel's hips sent sparks of pleasure through his entire body, alight with warmth and the shockingly obscene stretch of Crowley's lips around his erection. 

Aziraphale cursed as he felt Crowley bring himself to meet the force of his thrusts, hitting the back of his throat with each stuttering movement.

" _Ah,_ you feel _perfect,_ my darling. _Crowley-_ " he stuttered, his mind fuzzy with pleasure. 

After a deliciously long while, incrementally increasing the force of his hips alongside the tightening grip in Crowley's beautiful hair, Aziraphale found himself truly fucking the demon's lovely mouth, each pull and push down Crowley's throat summoning a moan from either of the two man-shaped-beings. 

Aziraphale couldn't pull his eyes away from the sight before him. He admired the beautiful stretch of Crowley's abused lips, which rivaled his hollow, mascara stained cheeks. For a moment, Aziraphale regretted that he'd declined Crowley's offer to purchase a cell phone, knowing how lovely the demon at his feet would look through the lens of a high quality camera. 

He felt the telltale pool of warmth gathering in his stomach as Crowley continued to take every inch of his cock with a demonic vigor, each thrust tugging him closer to the edge. 

"I'm getting close, darling," he said, slowing down for only a moment to ensure that his lover could hear him. "Careful, you wouldn't want to get anything on that pretty shirt of yours." 

Crowley let out another stuttering moan, before doubling his efforts. As much as Aziraphale knew that his spend could decorate the demon's face nearly as beautifully as the artful makeup that had been applied to it only a few hours before, he knew that it would feel just as good spilling down the demon's throat. 

In only a few more moments, he did exactly that, tightening his grip on the demon's hair as he finished with a low groan, just deep enough to feel the brush of Crowley's nose against the blond curls at the base of his cock. 

He pulled Crowley's head away slowly, admiring the slick curve of his lips as they drew away from his softening arousal. 

The demon looked thoroughly _used_ , smudged eyeshadow under his eyes and across his cheeks, while his hair (still partially caught in Aziraphale's grip) fluffed charmingly in all directions. He looked up at Aziraphale with heavy-lidded eyes, and a slight rasp to his stuttering breaths. 

Aziraphale quickly brought him up against his lap once more, and smoothed out his hair away from his face. 

" _Mmm._ Are you alright, my love?" the angel asked gently, as he settled the demon to straddle his thigh. 

Crowley nodded. " _Yes_ , angel."

"Good," Aziraphale breathed, running his hands down the demon's long back, before landing atop a perfectly shaped arse. He pulled him in closer to his front, and let his breath dance over the shell of his ear. "You're so talented, my dear. There's not a soul who looks better than you on your knees." 

Crowley hummed softly, before letting out a quiet gasp. Aziraphale felt the hard press of the demon's own neglected erection, now pressed rather perfectly against the swell of the angel's thigh. Crowley gave an experimental roll of his criminally smooth hips, and groaned. 

Aziraphale continued, feeling the gentle undulations of his lover's body under his hands, where they settled on his hips. "Someone should paint you, my dear, and dedicate a museum to the way you look with my cock down your pretty throat."

" _Mmm. 'Ziraphale,_ " Crowkey moaned. His head fell to Aziraphale's shoulder, increasing his tempo as he rut mindlessly against the angel's thick thighs. 

"I suppose I've neglected you," Aziraphale said, his own voice catching as he felt the demon seek out his own pleasure. "As much as I love the idea of watching you rut on me until you run those sinful trousers of yours, I'm afraid I have other ideas."

Crowley looked up with a questioning gaze, and felt as Aziraphale's hands traced up his forearms to pull at their bond. He let out a gentle whine, which sent a spike of pity into the angel's heart. 

"Don't worry, my darling," he comforted. "I'll put it back on soon." He ran a gentle hand over where the tie had left a slight mark, before settling the demon comfortably between his legs. "Take off your clothes."

Crowley rolled his hips once more, before quickly and obediently tossing aside his jacket. Aziraphale's hands traced up along the plane of the demon's stomach, gazing down fondly at his lover as he pulled the silk shirt over his head, before it joined the jacket on the floor next to them. 

Aziraphale thought about making a small crack at the treatment of his no doubt expensive clothes, but decided against it as he gained access to the grand expanse of Crowley's bare chest. He let his fingertips wander lightly against the demon's sides, before tracing the shivers he created up the arch of his back. Pulling him in closer, Aziraphale examined the slowly deepening marks that speckled across his throat, where his lips had travelled earlier in the evening. 

Aziraphale begrudgingly allowed Crowley to pull up and away as he tugged off his trousers, revealing a pair of tight black boxers, pulled taut with the hard bulge of him. 

Crowley relished in the greedy and lingering gaze that Aziraphale bestowed upon him as he pulled them away, exposing his neglected cock. Within moments, the naked demon found himself tugged back against the angel's front, blunt teeth scraping over the curve of his shoulder, as clinging hands gripped at his bare hips. 

" _Beautiful,_ " the angel murmured against his skin, bringing the demon's legs to once again straddle his thigh. For a moment, Aziraphale considered allowing Crowley to bring himself off against his leg, writhing against him in pleasure until he came across the angel's new suit, but he tucked those thoughts aside for another time. 

Aziraphale brought his fingers down to the cleft of the demon's arse, and brushed over the rim of muscle with gentle fingertips. Crowley shivered in his arms. 

"I want to watch you prepare yourself," he breathed, "then I'll tie you up again, and have you against the bed until you can't walk. Does that sound good to you, dear?"

Crowley keened. "Yes. _Please._ "

Aziraphale reached blindly for the lube that they kept atop the night table, only to watch the demon slick his own fingers in the heat of his mouth, damp with spit and the remnants of the angel's spend. In a daze, Aziraphale's eyes traced over the movement of Crowley's skillful tongue, until two fingers were obscenely prepped. 

The angle wasn't ideal for Aziraphale to watch as Crowley gently inserted his slicked forefinger into the tight ring of muscle, but he could feel the demon's chest against his as he fought for steady breath, and he could hear the earth-shattering moans of his lover just next to his ear as Crowley prepared himself and sought out his own pleasure. 

Aziraphale felt the gentle roll of Crowley's hips as he opened himself up, and watched as the demon shut his eyes tightly and pressed up against the angel's front. Aziraphale drew the demon's mouth up to his own, leisurely tasting each of Crowley's gasps and moans, with a quiet cry of the angel's name as he inserted a second finger alongside the first. 

Aziraphale felt his own cock stir where it lay against his thigh, each demonic groan sending sparks of second-hand pleasure down his spine. 

Quickly, the angel popped open the lube beside him, and spread it generously over his own fingers, before curling his arm to meet the filthy stretch of Crowley's hole. Gently, he pressed the tip of his own forefinger in alongside the two digits already breaching the demon. 

Crowley cried out, grinding back against the intrusion. 

" _Nngk- Angel,_ " he gasped, as Aziraphale searched for the bundle of nerves inside him. 

"That's it, darling. You're doing so _well_." Aziraphale said, his finger pressing against the warmth of his inner walls. "Just a little while longer. I'd hate to hurt you."

Aziraphale seemed to enjoy drawing out the blinding sensation of pleasure, gripping onto the demon's thigh with his unoccupied hand, to guide their erections against each other with each gentle thrust of their fingers. 

Crowley bit his lip in frustration. "I'm _ready,_ angel. I want to come with you inside me, _please._ " 

Aziraphale couldn't find it in himself to refuse.

He lifted the demon up off of him, and lay him back against the mattress. Obediently, Crowley spread his legs, providing Aziraphale with the elegant view of his erection pressed against his stomach, and his hands held stiffly in place above a fan of red waves. 

Aziraphale crawled overtop of him, and pressed one hand against the cross of the demon's wrists, letting the other run along Crowley's throat. He pulled the tie up off of the bed beside him, and carefully bound the demon's wrists together once more. 

"How's that, my love?" He nearly whispered, pressing Crowley's wrists into the mattress once for good measure, before sliding down the demon's front. 

" _Perfect,_ angel." 

Aziraphale smiled. Kneeling between Crowley's legs, he slowly brought his nimble hands to his shoulders, where he tossed aside his jacket. Unfastening the first few buttons on his shirt, he openly gazed upon the lewd stretch of the demon's body, as one would admire the spread of a four course meal. 

" _My._ Aren't you _lovely._ "

Crowley's eyes, as they often did during this sort of engagement, fought to stay open as the angel, mostly dressed, cuffed the sleeves of his shirt to reveal the pale skin of his forearms. 

Aziraphale lowered himself back to greet Crolwey's lips once more, and ran his hands down his hips, to tuck his thumbs into the crease of the demon's pelvis. 

He ran his tongue down the curve of Crowley's collarbone. "If you weren't all ready for me," he whispered against the skin of his neck, "perhaps I'd be inclined to simply admire you all spread out for me like this."

Crowley let out a soft whine as Aziraphale's hand just barely grazed the line of his cock at his stomach. 

"But," he clicked his tongue, "I'm afraid I've made a few promises, and I'm _nothing_ if not a man of my word."

His hand traced further past the demon's cock, letting his fingers brush past his perineum, to the obscene stretch of his prepared hole. Aziraphale's breath hitched as he pulled his hand away, fingers still slightly slick. To ensure that he didn't hurt the demon, he poured a generous amount of lube into the center of his palm, gripping himself once to spread it over his fully renewed erection, and lined himself up between the spread of Crowley's thighs. 

Before Crowley could beg - something he did rather beautifully, the moment things irritated him in the slightest - Aziraphale brought his hands up to the back of the demon's thighs, pressed them against his stomach, and entered him with a smooth thrust. 

Crowley let out a deep groan of satisfaction, bringing his bound hands to grip onto the rod iron bars of their headboard to steady himself as the angel began his deliriously deep and precise thrusts. 

The angel had studied the demon's body like a book the moment they'd begun the more physical aspects of their relationship, and through muscle memory alone, knew exactly which angles lit Crowley up like a Christmas tree. 

" _Fuck_ , angel." 

Despite coming once already over the course of the evening, nothing in the world could prepare Aziraphale for the tight heat of his lover - his demon, his _husband -_ as he thrust into him with slow, dizzying thrusts. 

The angel cursed under his breath, his lips pressed against the hollow of Crowley's throat.

For the first few thrusts, Aziraphale kept his hands behind the demon's knees, folding him nearly in half, and listening to the melodic moans that tumbled out from Crowley's parted lips. Only after the demon's voice had faded to a constant raspy groan did Aziraphale move his palms to thin hips, focusing each of his movements to forceful yet shallow grinds into the pliable being below him. 

Aziraphale could have gotten drunk off of the constant stream of pretty expletives that poured out of Crowley's mouth like a song. 

_Ah-_

Crowley gasped as Aziraphale used the firm grasp on his hips to pull him closer. 

_Please!_

He cried out, as Aziraphale ran his teeth over the long tendons of his throat. 

_Ngk- fuck!_

He keened, throwing his head back against the mattress as if he'd been burned. Aziraphale continued his brutally slow thrusts, fighting against his own nerves as they lit up inside him, sending his heart to his throat, and static to the edges of his vision.

_Harder!_

Aziraphale stopped. For a moment, the angel wondered if Crowley would ignore the binding of his hands and grasp for his still-clothed hips. 

"Is this not enough for you, my dear?" He breathed against the shell of Crowley's ear, in a way that he hoped sounding more arousing than threatening. 

He felt Crowley tremble beneath his palms, and laid a deceptively gentle kiss against the demon's heaving chest. 

"I'll try something different." 

Aziraphale withdrew from the demon, running one still-slick hand up over his side, before flipping him over with a dizzyingly quick precision. The angel watched as Crowley scrambled into position, collapsing against his bound forearms and his knees, arching his serpent-like spine. 

Aziraphale kissed the small of his back, before kneeling behind him, and once more thrusting into him. 

He watched as Crowley scrambled for purchase against the quilt beneath them, moaning loudly as Aziraphale filled him, harder than before, and at a much quicker pace. 

"Is this better?" Aziraphale asked, his own voice wrecked with pleasure and exertion as he folded himself over the demon's long torso. One hand remained on Crowley's hip, each fingertip digging into the flesh beneath it, deep enough to leave light bruises for them to find in the morning. The other hand buried itself in the waves of copper-red hair, pressing the demon's front into the mattress as he fucked him with renewed vigor. 

"Oh _God, Aziraphale,_ " the demon blasphemed at his knees. " _Yes._ "

The room filled with the sound of Aziraphale's thrusts, the creaking of the bed beneath him, and the continuous sound of the demon crying out in pleasure. Even the angel couldn't bite back the moans that bubbled up inside him as he curled himself over the demon's perfect body, his hands roaming mindlessly, whenever they weren't clinging to the demon's hips to bring him back roughly onto his cock. 

With every shout of the angel's name, Aziraphale was thankful that there were no neighbors that could hear the ever climbing sounds of the demon's pleasure. Crowley had enchanted him the entire night, but atop their bed, spread out and willing beneath his touch, the demon had never looked more beautiful. 

" _Angel,_ I'm- _fuck, I'm close._ " 

Aziraphale wrapped his arm under the demon, and swiftly grasped Crowley's cock. With only a few deft movements of his hand, he felt the demon go rigid beneath him, coming across the mattress and his stomach with a shout of the angel's name. 

Aziraphale was only moments behind, fucking into him in short quick bursts as Crowley's arms gave out beneath him. Within a few more moments, the angel buried himself mind-numbingly deep inside the demon, and came with a low groan. 

After the seemingly infinite stretch of time where the pair simply lay collapsed atop the bed in a daze of pleasure, Aziraphale pulled away from his still trembling lover beneath him. 

Aziraphale set the demon down against the mattress on his back, briefly admiring the sheen of sweat that covered his chest alongside his love bites, and the pearl white of his spend across his stomach. Crowley gazed up at the angel with a smug, contented expression, stretching his bound arms above his head. 

"Was that all you'd hoped for, my love?" Aziraphale teased, as he left to grab a warm damp cloth to clean themselves up. They were both more than capable of dismissing the remnants of their lovemaking with a sweep of their hand, but they'd both grown rather accustomed to doing this part the human way. 

When Aziraphale returned, he ran the cloth gently over Crowley's stomach and thighs, pressing light kisses to wherever he could reach.

"That was _perfect,_ angel," the demon all but purred, tugging the angel down next to him. Reverting to his more natural state, he draped himself over the angel, hitching a leg up over his thighs, and wrapping a lean arm around his middle.

Aziraphale could feel the light trembling of Crowley's legs where they met his own, alongside the quick beating of his heart through his chest. 

He found himself combing his fingers through Crowley's hair where it lay out against the pillows. They laid there for what could have been hours, luxuriating in the afterglow, and the sound of each other's breathing.

"Did you mean it?" Crowley asked, breaking the silence. 

Aziraphale turned to meet his eyes, his forehead creasing slightly. "Mean what, my dear?" 

Crowley brought Aziraphale's hand to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss against his palm. "You think we should get married." 

Aziraphale pulled him in closer. "Absolutely," he said with a soft smile. "If you're comfortable with it, I'd love to." 

Crowley stayed silent for a moment. Aziraphale waited patiently, running his hand along the curve of his hip, and pressing his lips to the demon's forehead. 

"We couldn't do it in a church," he finally breathed. "Maybe an outdoor wedding?" 

Aziraphale chuckled. "We can do whatever you'd like." 

Aziraphale watched the gears turn inside Crowley's head, until the demon looked up at him with a bright smirk.

"I wonder what I'll wear?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, and I hope you go and check out these two incredible authors and their own prom fics (and maybe all of their other fics too, while your at it)!!
> 
> And hey, check me out on tumblr at writing-mostly-probably if you want to chat about good omens, or honestly anything else!


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